


pink lilies

by ctrl_plus_c



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Trans Momota Kaito
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ctrl_plus_c/pseuds/ctrl_plus_c
Summary: Hot. Hot. Hot.Water is biting at his ankles and all too fast he can't feel them anymore, all too fast he's kicking off the sheets in a feat of panic and confusion as he tries to fight boiling water.All too fast, Kaito's arms are around him and everything is still again.
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Shinguji Korekiyo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	pink lilies

**Author's Note:**

> read a saiouma fic like this except i cant find it anymore :(

He's dizzy. His limbs ache and burn, his feet can feel the heat of the pot through the bottoms of his boots. A heat that only grew as the fire ate more wood, grew greater, flames licking the pot and growing to the point he could see them, see the bright oranges and yellows fill his vision as their smokey arms choked him. He coughed, hacked, unable to breathe through his mask and he hoped, for just the slightest moment, that he would suffocate before he melted. His eyes watered, pink blood filling his vision and slipping down his cheeks, adding to the water biting through his clothes and eating his skin, liquifying his legs as he felt himself sink, sink, sink into liquid bliss.

He's nothing. He's deep in a black abyss, swimming through bone-chilling waters that were nothing like those before his death. Then he opened his eyes. The glow-in-the-dark stars sticking to the ceiling barely glowed as the warmth of the morning sun flooded into the room, flooded like water, boiling hot water. The swirls on the ceiling mixed around, stirring in a giant cauldron of stars and messily applied white paint.

He shouldn't be surprised when Kaito's arm wraps around his shoulders and he's pulled into a tight hug that was all chest and arm and muscle. He shouldn't be surprised because, in all his flailing, he'd managed to pull the sheets right off him and Kaito, flinging them onto the floor and leaving them both cold and exposed. He shouldn't be surprised that his affectionate and sleepy boyfriend is hugging him close, that his loving and harmless boyfriend is trapping him.

But he is.

He rolls over, being met with Kaito's unbound chest (he liked not wearing a shirt, liked when Korekiyo didn't care about his chest) and ungelled hair, purple strands falling across his face in a sleep-induced mess. His hands wandered to Kaito's shoulders and he found himself trying to push away from the man, trying to escape his grip. He kicked, flailed, breathed, kicked again. Kaito only relented when he came out of his slumber and reached up to rub his eyes.

Kaito groaned softly, still half asleep as he opened his eyes. The man was always a mess in the morning, even if the sun was barely shining through their window. It wasn't uncommon for him to wake up at 6 in the morning, whether it was another one of Kaito's own night terrors or one of Korekiyo's. It was a routine they'd fallen into, a routine they were used to, so much so that Kaito barely had to move to get Korekiyo to calm down, to realize it wasn't real.

Wordlessly, he sat up. It didn't take a second glance to know he'd woken up to another one of Korekiyo's flashbacks, especially when he was fighting so hard against his grip. Korekiyo lay against the pillows, his head sinking into soft cushions as the blanket was found again and dragged back up over their bodies. Kaito reached over to the nightstand, flicking open a lighter and lighting up a candle. After a moment, the sweet smell of vanilla filled the room. It helped to get rid of the smell of burning flesh.

He didn't say anything else, waiting for Korekiyo to say something first. Sometimes he didn't need comfort; sometimes just the smell of vanilla was enough to calm him down, the heat from the blankets that was enough to warm him but never enough to make him remember. Sometimes being in a soft bed that felt nothing like the pot he died in was enough of a reminder that everything was fake. Even Kaito's presence, with his hair down and his binder off, was enough to make him realize it wasn't real.

And sometimes, he needed just that extra push to know it would be okay. That his life wasn't that of a sister-obsessed anthropologist, that he hadn't spent his life traveling the world and killing women for the voice in his head. That he had lived the life of an outcast until the game, when he'd met Kaito, when he'd learned from Kaito and when he gained Kaito as an ally, as a friend, as a lover. 

He reached out and took Kaito's hand, gently holding onto it. His hold was returned, just as gentle. A reminder that he was there, that they were in their home far away from DR, in their bed that was separated from the rest of the world. Kaito's hand was warm, his palm rough to the touch and his knuckles scarred over. He used to live a life where he fought every day to survive, it was why he was more on the muscular side than anything else. It made him wonder how Gonta's life was if the story about his forest family was all a lie.

"It was all fake, right?" Korekiyo's voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes looking anywhere but Momota's. He knew it was fake, knew that everything about his sister never happened, that in reality he never had a sister, that his real family consisted of a mother who tried to care about him but failed and a father that worked till his heart stopped. He knew he'd never ventured outside of Japan, knew that no girls had died because of him besides Angie and Tenko's fake deaths. But Kaito saying it made him believe it more, Kaito could make him believe in anything if he tried to.

"Yeah. You're okay." He didn't need to be assured that he was okay, but the words still made him feel slightly better. After a while, he moved to Momota's side, wrapping his arms around the mans' middle and closing his eyes. There was no place safer than in Kaito's arms, his scarred arms, his arms that had lost some of the muscle they had in the game because of Kaito's own lack of exercise. But it didn't bother Korekiyo in the slightest; Kaito's arms would be warm and safe no matter how they looked.

The sun rose over the horizon, blanketing them in yellow hues. The final echoes of the night faded away, leaving behind only the sun's golden rays. The morning birds chirped, filling the room with quiet bird chirps and the occasional car driving by. Early morning traffic would begin soon, but it wouldn't bother the pair past working as an incentive to finally get out of bed. They worked from home anyway. 

Korekiyo spent a lot of his life not knowing where home was. When he was a kid, it was the house his parents fed him and raised him. When he was 17 he thought it was the DR game. For a while he recognized that his house was where he and Kaito lived, but he never called it his home. He thinks, after the 50th time being comforted by the same pair of arms, that this is home. This bed, these sheets, this man, this love. Home didn't have to be a building. It could be Kaito Momota.


End file.
